love, hate, and ties that bind
by Melitza
Summary: He wanted to bring her pleasure or pain or whatever it took to narrow her world until there was only him again. Sasuke. Sakura. Naruto. Love, hate, and ties that bind.
1. Beautiful Disharmony: I

**Title:** Beautiful Disharmony: I

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Sakura, Itachi

**Pairings:** Maybe?

**Setting: **Shippuden. Manga spoilers 385+ like whoa.

**Description:** It was beautiful disharmony, the way her chakra screamed and drained and poured into the body of one she had once considered her greatest foe.

**A/N:** A "what-if" based on if Sakura found out the truth about Itachi.

--0--

Her decision was made even before she reached the still, still body. Even before her eyes drank in his black, black hair and sharply familiar features – aristocratic, calm, and collected even in death. She almost laughed when she felt the bitter sting of disappointment to see Itachi dead instead of Sasuke. (_She would have preferred it to be the avenger. Dead but stopped from madness was better than alive and not._)

She saw the irony reflected in the thick, coagulated crimson pool that surrounded him. A twisted visage of the happy, useless little girl looked back at her with empty jade eyes. Her lips twisted into nothing like a smile.

They call him a genius, with his bloodlimit sharingan eyes that see everything – record everything. They call him special; they call him impressive – and she had lapped and panted after him with the same disillusionment wagging from her tongue. It wasn't until years later that she could taste the bitter chalk of so many lies choking in the back of her throat. Scoff at those who would call one with a god-cheat more _skilled_.

He never had to work for anything in his life. He wasn't skilled so much as lucky; years of being left behind had jaded her – left her with nothing but hate for that awed recognition he was borne with, and she could not work herself raw to achieve. Without sharingan, he would be nothing. She would know.

Let him keep his blood red eyes. Let him keep his god-cheat. Sakura didn't need it; she was a genius in her own right, even if she was the only one who would ever recognize it.

Her hands formed seals to echo Chiyo baasama's, and her fingers did not fumble. She was a genius. She was brilliant. The forgotten, forbidden, impossible seals danced from her fingertips as if they had been of her own creation. It was beautiful disharmony, the way her chakra screamed and drained and poured into the body of one she had once considered her greatest foe – one she had once hated with what little hate her altruistic little soul was capable of.

'_Oh, how reading a few top secret scrolls can change everything, ne?_' She wondered if Sasuke knew; she wondered if Sasuke cared. She wondered if he would be horrified or thrilled to see Itachi again.

She wondered if Naruto and Kakashi and Tsunade and Ino-pig would have lied to stop this. Would have told her if only she waited a while longer, studied a little harder, trusted in her team and her sensei and her village – they would get him back, they would stop him. Just give it a little more time, a little more patience, a little more faith…

She wondered if they would have told her she was _enough_. She wondered if they would have believed it.

It was beautiful disharmony, the way he spluttered before his chest rose and fell. Before the world tunneled – expanding and collapsing abruptly as the earth rose up to meet her.

His sharingan eyes slid open the moment her jade green slid shut, and she wondered if Sasuke would love her or hate her for this. It didn't matter, of course – he would _recognize_ her, would know her worth, and wasn't that all she had wanted all along?

She was forever lacking – was incapable – they all were, she realized. They were too bright, too good, too hopeful. And so, her gift to the world: Leaf's prodigal son, who was not.

Itachi's life for hers. One _he_ saw, in exchange for one he did not. One who could stop _him_, in exchange for one who could not.

It was beautiful disharmony, the way light gave way to dark.

--0--

**A/N:** SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS! Chiyo baasama being the woman who performed the resurrection technique on Sakura (and survived, since Sakura was not dead yet), and on Gaara (and did not survive, since he was.)

This being a sidenote piece. I hope to still finish Turning From The Light, but uhm, more inspiration will be required for that.


	2. Beautiful Disharmony: II fin

**Title:** Beautiful Disharmony: II

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Sakura, Itachi

**Pairings:** Maybe?

**Setting: **Shippuden. Manga spoilers 385+ like whoa.

**Description:** It was beautiful disharmony, the way her chakra screamed and drained and poured into the body of one she had once considered her greatest foe.

**A/N:** A "what-if" based on if Sakura found out the truth about Itachi.

--0--

The agony of his dying cells resetting was almost unbearable, but the window in which to act was short. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the ethereal sword, and plunged it into her body.

A bystander might be horrified by the action; she had just sacrificed her life for his! She was already _dead_, for chrissake!

His sharingan eyes, still blurry with death, shifted from the still body beside him, to just above, and he lunged again, piercing the fading wisps of chakra dead center.

Itachi did not miss. He never had.

--0--

Existence stretched and snapped like a rubber band plucked too far, and she opened her eyes to her own screaming, back arched from the ground and toes curling as every cell in her body shivered. The agony was unbearable; her heart shuddered and squeezed and let out one stuttering beat. She burned.

The white hot pain of existence could only mean one thing: she was alive. She was supposed to be dead but she was alive, and Uchiha Itachi was watching her with a nonplussed stare.

Her heart faltered again, and she rolled into her side as her confused body tried to reject itself and she vomited blood. She moaned between desperate gulps of air, and Itachi didn't make a sound all along.

--0--

She didn't ask, but when she had finally stilled, lying gasping on her side as her body finally fell back into the rhythm of being alive, he spoke. "I used a special sword to seal your soul in your body." She stared at him, and he stared back. "You have impressive healing powers, that your body was able to reset itself before I regained the strength to augment it."

She would have nodded, but the world was still reeling – _she_ was still reeling. She felt sick, and confused, and no tiny bit upset.

The words caught up with her moments later. "You were going to seal me into a dead body?" She blinked, then shot more accusingly, "I will still be stuck in it if it dies again?"

"You don't sound very thankful," he deadpanned, looking unimpressed.

"I didn't ask for you to save me," she hissed.

"Nor I, you."

"Then what a lovely pair of ungrateful walking dead we make," she sniped, wheezing only a little from the effort.

He shifted his eyes off her. They sat in silence for a long time – long enough that it might have felt uncomfortable, if the circumstances were any different. Instead, she only felt grateful for the quiet – grateful for a calm center to the whirling tumult of emotions around her. It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Dying for what had to be done was one thing; living to see it was so very much harder.

When Itachi spoke, she almost jumped. "I remember you. One of my brother's friends." She bit off the retort that Sasuke didn't harbor anything as trite as friends. He seemed to sense the flare of resentment, because his gaze felt _heavier_ when it shifted back to her. "I take it you know?"

"You failed," she replied succinctly. "Whatever your plan for Sasuke – whatever ultimate grand scheme you had all meticulously planned in your genius mind –it failed. He is a monster of your creation. And for Leaf, you will stop him."

"For Leaf," he echoed blandly. She wondered how she could have missed before – that sadness – that regret, shrouded only thinly in a veil of boredom. She wondered how the Akatsuki could have ever missed that – that crushed thing that might have once been hope.

"For Leaf," she repeated, and it was beautiful disharmony, the way he nodded with tired conviction even though she knew it killed him (_killed her, killed them all_) inside.

_Fin_

--0--

**A/N:** That's all she wrote, and she wrote no more. On this one, at least. Circumstances notwithstanding, of course.


	3. Sakura: Forget

**Title:** Forget

**Rating:** K 

**Characters:** Sakura, Sasuke

**Pairings:** Eh.

**Setting: **Shippuden.

**Description:** Spoilers for Sasuke, and all the crap he pulls. One-shot. Angst.

--

--

Sometimes, it was easy to forget.

But only in the bright light of day, when the shadows had recessed into clever hiding and all but disappeared. When the sun was merry and cheerful, forcing it's inclination on the rest of the world, it was easy to pretend that this was all about something else. About helping him understand his mistakes – about bringing him back so that Team 7 could be whole again.

(_So that she could be whole again._)

It was easy to forget, when the light let all those prying eyes watch her – judge her – second guess her. It was easy to forget what this was really about. It was easy to tell herself that she was doing this out of lingering love, as if it might somehow heal him and make everything ok again.

(_As if everything could be ok again._)

Only for a second though – only when the sun had reached its zenith, and the shadows were gone.

But then the world tilted, and the shadows came back, and she remembered that hollow emptiness in his eyes – the echoing indifference in his voice as he promised to spare or kill them on a whim. When he angled his sword towards her, with every intention of killing her, or Naruto, or anyone else who got in the way of his mad descent. It was then that she could not forget – could not do anything but remember.

'_You killed us, Sasuke._'

And someday… they would return the favor. Because that was the only way this could end.

--

--

**End**


	4. Turning from the light I

**Title:** Turning from the light

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Sasuke, Itachi

**Pairings:** Nah.

**Setting: **Shippuden. Manga spoilers 385 like whoa.

**Description:** Angst-betrayal-dark-fic (or at least, will be if I do the necessary follow-ups ).

--

--

Become stronger.

Kill Itachi.

Avenge the Uchiha clan.

"The light will not leave my world," Itachi had hissed, snarled, screamed and howled, again, even while Sasuke spooned and scooped and ripped his eyes uncleanly from his head. Slimy gore then coated his hands, chunks of stained red flesh _plip plip plipping _down his brothers face, and then his own. It might almost have been disgusting had he stopped to contemplate what he was doing, if Itachi's howls of agony not laid such a pleasant backdrop for it.

Sasuke let his fingers linger, then, almost caressing in the empty sockets. He almost giggled in delight as his brother thrashed, so helplessly blind, and moaned in such dejection even as his wounds _plip plip plipped _his life away.

Itachi died confused, cold, and finally completely blind, alone on a stone floor far from the light of day. It might have been ironic, had Sasuke any sense to appreciate wry humor. As it were, he took sickening satisfaction in knowing that rot would set into Itachi's body long before any of his companions found him.

Sasuke took his eyes, thereby assuring that it would be his world in which the light would remain, and he wondered at whether he would have gone to the same lengths, had he been born but a few years before. He liked to imagined he would not have; but long years spend under Orochimaru had perverted what little he knew even about himself, once upon a time. Perhaps this was Uchiha destiny – one brother to kill the other.

When he reopened his eyes, they were little different, and with disappointment Sasuke realized that mangekyou sharingan was not transferable. It would seem it was some internal chakra channel opened – internal tracks laid to gain the final effect, rather than some brand etched into the flesh itself.

It would seem the journey was necessary to reach the destination, after all.

And just like that, the polarity of his existence switched, and his internal drum never even faltered even as the beat switched entirely.

Kill his best friend.

Achieve the mangekyou sharingan.

Control the kyuubi.

Become stronger

It was almost amusing, the way the three were so tied and interwoven. The first lead to the achievement of the second, and the second to the third – and the third, of course, led him back to the beginning. Like some cosmically arranged line of dominos, as ever his goals seemed to be.

But now Itachi was dead, and in so, his clan was avenged – so, for the first time in his life, a link in the chain was missing, and standing there painted in crimson and mind whirling in violence, Sasuke realized he had the _what_, but no longer the _why_.

'_Itachi is already dead. The kyuubi is controlled. I have no need for the mangekyou sharingan – I just proved it is the weilder and not the weapon, didn't I? Why kill Naruto? For what gain, now?_'

He sat in Itachi's sticky blood for some time, watching his brother's body as if to make sure it would not rise again. Though there was no light to be seen to mark the passage of time, he knew just as well that it was long into the night before he finally arrived at the surprisingly simple conclusion.

"Aa. For my own." It was almost disappointingly simple. "To become stronger, ne, nii-san?"

Sasuke felt his lips curving into an appreciate smile, and absently, he nodded. "Aa. That's reason enough."

To be stronger. No; to be _strongest_, to have all that he would, and then some. To gain for himself. What other reason need there be?

His cadence shifted yet again, never faltering, and just like that, Uchiha Sasuke's journey became his goal, and though he had walked in darkness for sometime, only now did he irrevocably turn from the light one last time.

The light, after all, had been Itachi's obsession. Sasuke was just fine without it.


	5. Turning from the light II

**Title:** Turning from the light, II

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Sasuke, Naruto, Sakura

**Pairings:** NaruSaku, minor SasuSaku, maybe some SasuNaru if you squint

**Setting: **Shippuden. Manga spoilers 385 like whoa.

**Description:** Angst-betrayal-dark-fic (or at least, will be if I do the necessary follow-ups ).

_--_

_--_

_Kill his best friend._

Never once, had it occurred to him that it might be nothing so literal.

The day Sasuke killed Naruto was the day he kissed Sakura.

--

--

_You can attract more flies with honey than with vinegar._

_-- Folk saying_

--

--

… And so you could.

_Kill his best friend._

_Achieve the mangekyou sharingan._

_Control the kyuubi._

_Become stronger._

Sasuke, for whatever else he was, had never been labeled a fool. The kyuubi was safely nestled away in Naruto, and Naruto, in turn, was safely nestled away in Konohagakure.

He could make a frontal assault, as Orochimaru had once done. He might even do a better job at it – he had killed the bastard well enough, after all. But as time continued to slip by, Sasuke started to realize a frontal assault was too… messy. It left too many variables in question. There were too many chances for mistake.

And so, as soon as the sun kissed the horizon and marked the first day the world would face without Uchiha Itachi, Sasuke returned to Konoha.

--

--

From the first day back in Konoha, he noticed the _shift_ between them. Before, they were three. They were a team. And though he himself had shunned that comraderie – had left the other two behind without a second thought – something about the way they were so _settled_ together bothered him.

It pestered and whined in the back of his thoughts – bristling and growling every time the dobe settled his hand on the small of her back as if it was no big deal – every time she smiled and laughed at his lame jokes even when the rest of the room fell silent.

Sasuke offered to practice to Naruto, and the other boy took up the invitation eagerly. Sasuke deliberately held back, showed only the faintest hints of what he had learned, and in return (he thought), he learned a great deal more about how the dobe had grown. It would be necessary to know these things, when the time came…

The situation could not have been highlighted any clearer than when she came trotting onto the practice field, waving brightly not at him (who she had not yet even noticed), but rather at Naruto.

"Naruto!" she called, brightly. "I brought you ramen! I wanted to –"

He wasn't sure what else she was going to say, because she halted when she noticed him. Something twisted inside him when he realized she hadn't even noticed him until now.

(_Once, she would never have even approached the training field without seeing first if he was there. And then, she would have walked on eggshells and glass as she preened to impress him…_)

"Aa. Sasuke." Not –kun. Just… Sasuke. The fact that he noticed surprised him as much as it bothered him (_annoyed him… he didn't care either way, he just hated deviation from the norm)_. "I'm sorry, Sasuke – I didn't realize you'd be here – or I'd –"

"It's fine," he interrupted, though the words were thick and hard to get out from his mouth because something inside him was screaming just the opposite. But Sasuke was nothing if not good at deceit, and so he frowned as indifferently as ever before. He was settling again – it worked, really, that reverse-psychology-physiology. Smile to be happy. Frown to… not.

But something continued to twist inside him, and he was just beginning to worry that she might notice his accusatory glare when suddenly the dobe burst in exuberance.

"Ne, Sakura-chan, give Sasuke yours! We can share!" he cheered, and suddenly he was beside her, and his hand was around her waist, and she was flushing…

The fact that Naruto, the human-ramen-disposal-machine, would make such a selfless offer, was not lost upon him. And suddenly, Sasuke began to feel uncomfortable.

"We only have two sets of chopsticks –" she started, and her jade eyes were flickering towards him. Sasuke told himself the twist in his gut was from disgust in the dobe's child-like glee.

"We can take turns – or ne, ne, I will feed you, Sakura-chan! Or, ne, ne, you can feed me!"

Once, she would have struck him over the head and called him an idiot. And then, would have sidled to _him_ and begged and pouted and offered just the same. And he would have given her the cold shoulder, and their equitable triangle would have continued…

He paused, and waited for the explosion that never came.

Instead, her flush turned to a blush, and she smiled that shy smile (_the smile that had once been only his_), and very tentatively, she nodded (_without so much as a glance to him_).

Never once in the time that he was gone had it occurred to Sasuke that he would be the one left behind. And even less, had it occurred to him that he would care if he was.

'_Look at me. _Look at me, damnit.' Though he would never admit it, somewhere deep inside, that attention starved, desperate little boy panicked. His throat tightened, and he told himself it was to stop the words 'backstabber' and 'slut' and 'betrayers' from spilling out. The sudden quivering in his hands was to keep himself from strangling him, or her, or both.

And the twinge in his heart he carefully laid aside without further consideration.

"I don't need your pity," he hissed, and spun on his heel – and he couldn't bring himself to turn back to see if either of them even noticed, because somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew the answer might kill or save him, and he needed neither of those things.

He had not come here to die or be saved, but rather to kill, grow, and control. He cared nothing for these people – these _strangers_ – to whom he no longer had any ties. This lull of deceit to make them believe him complacent was an illusion, and only that.

And that is what he told himself, as he lay alone and cold and felt both far more bitterly than he ever had in these past years that night. The Uchiha district was deathly silent, leaving nothing to distract and drive away the images of an idiotically grinning blonde and a girl with sparkling jade eyes smiling happy and content…

… _with each other …_

--

--

**Author's Notes: **Extremely rare for me to continue something with so very little feedback, but I have just a smidgen bit of inspiration left, maybe. So if you like this at all, drop me a line. If not, don't worry, it'll die quietly once my fickle interest fades.


	6. Turning from the light III

Title: Believe: Turning from the light, III

**Title:** Believe: Turning from the light, III

**Rating:** T

**Characters:** Sasuke, Naruto, Sakura

**Pairings:** NaruSaku, implied SasuSaku

**Setting: **Shippuden. Manga spoilers 385+ like whoa.

**Description:** If she stays… she is yours forever.

--

--

_Let her go._

_If she leaves, she was never yours to begin with._

_If she stays… she is yours forever._

--

--

Two years after Sasuke left, Naruto was returning to Konoha, Jiraiya in tow, bursting at the seams with new knowledge and new conviction and a readiness to take the world by the tail.

When he saw Sakura again, he was relieved there wasn't even a moment of awkwardness between them. It was something he had lost sleep over (_What if she had forgotten him? What if she had moved on? What if she didn't care about him as much as he cared about her? Maybe he had been gone too long; yes, he certainly had been gone too long…_) But when their eyes met across the crowd, he felt a familiar grin tugging at his lips, and he crossed his arms behind his head in a gesture that felt so natural and normal that for a moment, it felt as if he had never left all. And when she asked if _she_ had changed, he thought for a moment his heart may burst. (_She was afraid, too; she was thinking of me, too. She missed me, too. She was waiting for me, too._)

He grinned a cat-that-got-the-cream grin (_She hadn't forgotten! She hadn't forgotten!_) and assured her that she was exactly the same (they_ were exactly the same; no rift had wedged between them, they were closer now if anything_). And though he always wondered why she growled and smacked him in the head after that, he could only assume Sakura-chan had different ways of expressing her happiness than he did. (_She was a puzzle he might never understand, but was one he had no qualms over spending the rest of his life figuring out_.)

And the hesitant shudder of his heart rolled over, and the world kept spinning, and they didn't even miss a beat.

--  
--

For a minute there, he thought maybe they had a chance.

--  
--

When Sasuke left, it was only natural their world was a little less balanced – that they were each a little more appreciative of what was left, and a little more desperate to keep what they had…

Naruto loved her; had always loved her, and probably always would. After having been betrayed by a friend who he had likened as his brother, love meant that much more to him these days. Life, relationships – it was all so desperately fragile, so easy to lose at any moment, and yet, she was still here. And if he had anything to say about it, she always would be.

_Always_.

He loved her, and with Sasuke gone, it was only natural that she might come to appreciate him a little more. It was only natural that he might shine – he had always loved her, and given the chance, he liked to think that maybe she could come to love him back.

--  
--

The only thing he regretted was that their first kiss was borne from desperate lonliness rather than love and passion. He would have liked to look back and think of it was something special – something about them, rather than _him_…

But it was what it was, and even if it wasn't perfect, neither were their circumstances. He wouldn't take it back for the world, even if he had leaned in a little too far, and their teeth clanged painfully for a moment, and his lips slipped wetly over hers in something more than simply lips-to-lips, but less than the skilled, mind-blowing caress that he had always imagined would sweep her off her feet.

It was the night after they lost Sasuke. The night after they failed to heal that rift in their team – the night after they confronted him, truly saw what he had become, and first began to truly wonder (_doubt_) if things ever could be the same.

She was hugging her knees tightly to her chest; the ever-present smile in her eyes was gone, the only sparkle in the green the reflection of their campfire. "We failed…" she sighed, and he couldn't bear the thought of her feeling the same bitter disappointment he was. "Next time… next time I'll… I'll be better…" she was murmuring, and for perhaps the first time in his life, the noisiest ninja of Konoha found himself desperate to communicate something, but at a complete loss for words.

She didn't even notice when he leaned towards her.

It was chaste and sweet and sincere, if hurried and unskilled, and Sakura seemed to realize that, because even when she gently pressed a hand against his chest to break the kiss, she didn't hit him, or even shout. He might have taken the break for rejection, if not got the gentle way she immediately rested her forehead against his – the way she pulled him closer, held him…

"You don't need to be better, Sakura-chan," he whispered, suddenly unable to keep silent whereas only moments before he had been unable to find words. "You don't need to be _anything_… you just… you…" He trailed off – watched her raptly for any sign, any indication whatsoever…

"I love you," he whispered.

--  
--

She stood calmly beside him, meticulously taking the dishes from his hands after he pulled them, newly cleaned, from the sudsy water, and not for the first time, he wondered at how something so simple and quiet and plain – something so domestic – could be so close to perfection. Heaven on earth, bliss and contentment, found even in menial tasks…

This was what she did for him.

And for the first time since it all began, he realized how dangerous it was. Because – even as she was here, with him, he knew that somewhere in the city – in _their home_, in _her hospital_ – was a place she would rather be. A feral little corner of him bristled, affronted, desperate to protect this – this false little sense of security and domestic bliss. This little front of _something_ that they had… This tiny little piece of heaven that was his, all his, _finally_ his…

This quiet before the storm, that he wished could last forever, but had always known could not…

"Sasuke is back."

Something inside him crumbled and wavered; he was thankful for the thick suds atop the waters surface, hiding his trembling hands beneath. His breath choked in his throat, but the words were still burning there – the knowledge lingering, killing him softly from the inside out.

He allowed his gaze to dart to her, cerulean blue flashing something momentarily that he wished desperately for her to understand, but he couldn't hold the gaze through his nervousness. When he spoke, he looked away, fixating on the dishes hidden beneath the sink water before him.

"Sasuke is back," he repeated. '_Or someone of his visage, at least_,' he thought, but couldn't say. A haggard looking and empty eyed young man with spiky hair and pale skin and an Uchiha fan on his back.

With blood stains to his elbows and little else… Except for what mattered the most.

_Her heart._

If he had known it would all eventually come crashing down, would he have done this to himself? Allowed himself a taste, even knowing that someday it'd all be taken away, forever more?

'_Absolutely_,' he knew, but wanted to die just the same.

Sakura's stillness was killing him, and desperately, he squeezed his eyes shut against the tears threatening there. Hadn't he already suspected – no, already known? No matter how strong he became… no matter how hard he tried, how much better he got, how truly and wholly he loved… he was a substitute. He was dead-last, even in this race – _especially_ this race, the most important of them all…

_The race for her heart._

'_Dead-last, dead-last, dead-last…_'

"Sasuke is back," he choked, and waited for the slam of the door to signal her retreat. To signal their end… to signal what he had known all along.

--  
--

"I love you," he had whispered, and then waited for the axe to fall.

Her silence was deafening. He expected the rejection – was familiar with it already, was waiting for it, even, but was surprised when instead, she smiled and nuzzled her face into his neck. "I don't want this to be about _him_, Naruto…" she murmured, so low, so tenuous, that he had to strain to hear.

"I… I don't want this between us… I don't want it to be about him, and his betrayal, and whether or not he is here or gone, or friend or enemy. I want things to be resolved, and then… then I want… I want…"

She faltered at the end, and Naruto understood. Quietly, supportively, he nuzzled his lips into her hair, shushing her with a quiet exhale of breath. "It's ok, Sakura-chan…" he soothed, even while inside, something inside him wailed that it was anything but.

He only wanted her to be happy – even if that meant in the end, she chose _him_ instead. It was the kind of love that could save or kill…

(_Was this always meant to be his penance for housing a beast? To love and love and love, and always lose…_)

"… then I want… to give us a chance," she sighed, and he had to close his eyes and tighten his throat against a sudden wonderful burning there. It tasted like hope, and that, even more than despair, was a terrible, dangerous thing.

"Then we'll wait, Sakura-chan…" he smiled – sniffled (_how unromantic – even _he_ knew better, but couldn't stop just the same_). "We'll wait, and then… I'll support your decision." Because no matter what, he could deny her nothing that would make her happy.

… and he wouldn't have it any other way.

--  
--

And for a minute, it was his time.

--  
--

For the first time, he almost wished she had rejected him back then. He had been used to the rejection – had expected it, experienced it. But this – allowing him a little taste of this perfection, only to have it later taken away… this was hell.

For the first time, he almost wished his best friend had died rather than returned.

Who knew that love would make him more a monster than the beast hidden within?

Something inside him withered and curled in on itself as he waited… The hot water of the sink was beginning to burn and tingle at his hands, submerged so long, but he couldn't bring himself to move – to breathe –

To hope.

"Naruto…"

Her hands were so deceptively warm and gentle, wrapping around his chest – stroking his chin, his cheek, his brow, turning his face to her and his body from the sink… His mind was so cruel, making him imagine her lips on his eye lids, so gentle… so _loving_…

"Naruto," she whispered, and her chest pressed against his side made him almost want to believe…

… "I already know."

The world slowed and came into painful clarity, and it was all he could do to choke a disbelieving, "What?" His eyes cracked, and to his amazement, she was smiling – calm, and non-hysterical, and not running from him (_not running to _him)…

"I already know that he's back, Naruto. I knew when they first brought him in." She was smiling, and choked an awkward kind of laugh. "I probably knew before you did, silly. I work in the hospital you know!"

"B – but –"

"Sasuke is back." He wanted to believe the promise in her eyes; the gentle curve of her lips. The softness of her fingers on his face. "It's over, Naruto. It's our time now."

He wanted to say something in response – something cool, or something witty and funny, or at least something reassuring – anything to banish that sudden bashful, uncertain blush from her face. "I want… I want to give us a chance," she finished, and this time his eyes were open to see that her lips on his were not a dream-figment, a pipers dream…

She tilted her head, resting her forehead against his in a gesture so acceptingly affectionate that he thought he felt his heart skip a beat. "I love you," she sighed, and the words sounded as much a realization to her as they were to him. The world's weight was slipping away, and, and...

"I love you," she sighed quietly, sounding both relieved and exhausted at once…

But she still had the energy left to laugh and squeal with joy when Naruto hoisted her up and began to swing and dance around the house with her.

'_I want to give us a chance_,' his mind recanted back for him, over and over again. '_It's our time now._'

… and… for the first time in his life, Naruto was not last, but _first_…

--  
--

_If she stays… she's yours forever._

--  
--

And for a minute, he believed.

--

--

**Author's Notes:** This one is dedicated to MightyMightyMafia, whose amazing review did get me off my duff… but, uhm, wrong pairing, right? Sorry. There's some ample insinuation going on, though, ne?


	7. Turning from the light IV

**Title:** Turning from the light, IV

**Rating:** M for language, lime

**Characters:** Sasuke, Naruto, Sakura

**Pairings:** NaruSaku, SasuSaku

**Setting: **Shippuden. Manga spoilers 385+ like whoa.

**Description:** He wanted to bring her pleasure or pain or whatever it took to narrow her world until there was only him again.

--  
--

_Sometimes, love isn't enough.  
And other times, it is far, far too much._

--  
--

No one would have blinked had he spent a well-earned, restful night in the inn after he completed his mission. In point of fact, his team had moaned irritably at his 'itchy feet', but none of them had been so drained for him to feel guilty about driving towards home the instant it was possible. They were _tired_, they whined, they needed _rest_…

He was too, though he was scarce to admit it. And moreover, he needed something more than rest, and so, he put his _way of the ninja_ to good use. Realizing that he wasn't going to give up until he succeeded, the others had wearily satisfied themselves with changing clothes and cold water to the face.

By the time he slipped inside her window, it was hard to put up a front and act like he, too, wasn't bone-tired and more than ready to just curl up and sleep it off for a week. Even so, he couldn't help but to pause and smile fondly from the window.

Moonlight was becoming on her.

"Honey, I'm home…" he breathed, meaning it as a joke, but something deep inside him shifted and settled with the words. All at once his throat constricted, and for a disconcerting moment, he thought he might cry (and had no idea why).

He thought she was asleep, and was sure she couldn't have noticed his momentary lapse, but Naruto laughed with breathless reassurance anyway to cover it up. When he reached to gently stroke her hair, he was surprised when her hand snatched out and caught him by the wrist – pulled him towards her.

"I miss you so much…" Sakura sighed.

"I'm right here," Naruto murmured into her hair. When she shivered slightly and huddled further into her covers, he was reminded of a movie scene, and couldn't suppress the grin. "Is this the part that the ring falls to the ground and I realize I've really been dead all along?" She tried to disappear into the covers, but he followed dutifully after (as he always has – always will). Impishly, he nosed her ear, was perversely pleased by the way she writhed and gasped at the innocuous gesture.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his head and pulled him in closer. The feather-light tickle becomes a forced (albeit none too begrudging) kiss on her cheek, and Sakura laughed breathlessly, "I should be so lucky…"

She's teasing, and he knows it, but the insecure, unwanted, unloved orphan that will always have a foothold in the corner of his soul cringed a little anyway. As always, he covers it with a too-bright smile, a too-loud laugh – but maybe she saw underneath the underneath, because abruptly she turned her head and pressed a soft kiss of her own to his cheekbone, just below his eye, then trailed along his whisker-marks, his jaw…

"You'd know if you were gone, Naruto," she whispered, referring back to his original joke. When he only made a questioning noise, she pulled back, still holding the base of his skull so he couldn't look away. "I'd be lost," she finished.

And though she said it as if it was the most truthful thing she had ever spoken (and though he believes her – he'll _always_ believe her, his Sakura-chan, his partner, his love), that little corner of himself needled anyway. '_But would she really?_'

Resolutely shoving that morose little voice into a distant corner, Naruto slipped beneath her covers and twined his legs with hers. He didn't bother stripping off his ANBU gear, and for whatever reason, she didn't see fit to scold him for it, even when she felt his sandals scratching at the backs of her legs.

It's only when her breathing had evened out and he realized she was asleep in his arms that he finally allowed himself to exhale.

'_No…_' he concluded at length. In a strange mix of unfathomable sorrow and happiness, he pressed his lips into her hair, and knew that if they somehow _were_ separated – if he somehow lost her –

'_I'd be the one lost._' And he wondered if that was his strength or his weakness.

--

--

Sasuke didn't know why he even bothered coming to the ramen stand. He sat on the stool, glaring hatefully at the noodles, refusing to choke them down. He hadn't much appetite, these days, his stomach churned so.

Sakura was conspicuously absent. Naruto had rambled on about _late shifts at the hospital_ and _the woes of being such a successful doctor_. Sasuke rather suspected something else – but if her avoiding him also kept her from Naruto, he would come here dutifully every day.

He came here under the façade of friendship, hoping his presence contributed to the ruin of something precious to that so-called friend. The irony was not lost on him.

"You're just going to have to take it easy for a week or two," Naruto announced loudly, clapping Sasuke on the back; if he noticed him flinch, he did a good job of pretending he didn't. "I'm going on a mission, and no one else seems to want to spar with you these days. But don't get too rusty while I'm gone, or I'll kick your ass once and for all, believe it!"

Sasuke twirled his chopsticks into the noodles thoughtfully. "You're leaving tomorrow morning?" he deadpanned, and Naruto nodded vigorously, taking the minute bit of interest and running with it like only a child bereft of attention and care his entire life could. He didn't even have any idea that Sasuke could care less about the mission, but rather, his mind was on something else entirely.

If he had a heart, Sasuke might have felt guilty.

--

--

Naruto was to leave at the break of dawn like shinobi usually did. Sakura was exhausted from pulling a late night at the hospital (because though they left at dawn, they always seemed to come back bloodied at night for some reason), nothing would keep her from seeing him off.

To her credit, she stumbled only for a moment when she saw the dark shadow leaning against the wall beside the team.

Naruto might be immune to it, but Sakura most certainly wasn't. It was all she could do to resolutely ignore the seething waves rolling off the Uchiha – and not for the first time, she wondered how Naruto could be so dense. Couldn't he _feel_ the malevolence from the Uchiha?

But she wouldn't let him drive her away – this was _her_ home, and it was _her_ right to see Naruto off on his mission. She kissed the blonde chastely on his whisker marks just as she would seeing him off on any other morning. She stood on tip toes to lick any nip at his lips, and ignored the twinge of indeterminate excitement and nervousness that accompanied it this time.

She stood there and watched Naruto until the last flash of blonde disappeared over the horizon – and then, just for spite, she stood a little longer.

Sasuke stood as well – and though he had nodded solemnly to Naruto's bubbling enthusiasm, the moment the other boys back was turned, he had eyes only for her. It was all she could do to ignore the way his eyes hatefully trailed after her when she finally decided to leave.

Her eyes tried to trail to him as well – meant to lock in like magnets to their mate – but with force of will, she kept her gaze straight ahead, her head high, and gingerly, she stepped around him when he did not move from her path. When she drew abreast of him, he finally spoke – quietly, calmly – seethingly.

"You fucking hypocrite."

And all at once, the cool, collected high road didn't appeal to her so much anymore. White hot anger exploded in her chest, and whirling towards him, she snarled with more vindication than she thought she possessed. "What did you expect Sasuke – a parade? A key to the backdoor? Hugs and kisses and cards telling you how much you were missed? Konoha moved on." Angrily, she gestured at the empty streets of the city just beyond his shoulder. "_We_ moved on. _What did you expect?_" She tilted her chin and caught his eyes, his dark gray smoldering threateningly like a thunderstorm about to break. "Do you even _know_?"

Hate rolled off him in waves, and though his jaw twitched, he made no motion to reply. "Yeah. I didn't think so." She snorted disgustedly and shook her head, trying to swallow the bitterness souring her mouth even as she turned from him in every sense of the word.

She made it two more steps before she heard his hiss, "_More_."

She froze, shoulders stiffening as she turned to regard him coolly over her shoulder. "What?"

"I expected _more_."

He lunged.

--

--

When she stiffened in his arms, something inside him bristled, affronted, and he gripped his fingers harder into the back of her neck, harder into the curve of her ass. He was being too rough – his fingers would leave bruises in their wake, he knew – but the realization only made him clutch harder.

He waited for her to fracture. Break, splinter – weep. He waited for the uncertainty – _her _uncertainty_ – _that crippling weakness that defined her as a little girl, that crippling weakness that made her need him – that crippling needy fault that he was waiting even now to manifest.

He wanted her to cry – and then he would turn his back and walk away. The tables would tip, control would be his again, and she would be wanting. Everything would be… in order again.

It started just about her and her reaction – but then, like a match dropped on kerosene soaked tinder, the spark exploded, and suddenly he was thrown in, and it was about him, too. And it wasn't enough. Unrepentantly, he bit her lips – harder, then, when he realized he would not be satisfied until he tasted blood, and even then maybe not. He hooked his hand under her knee and ground into her, crashing her into him, jarring them both in a way that was more painful than pleasurable. When she gasped, he jammed his tongue into her mouth, and suddenly it was less about subversion and more about need – everything about possession.

And then, abruptly, he was stumbling back, white and black dancing across his eyes and red pain throbbing from his chin. She stood there, the picture of frozen fury, fist frozen in the air where it had connected with his jaw, chest heaving with each shaky pant.

She looked breathless, flushed – but only for a fleeting moment. And then, she looked mostly nonplussed and entirely angry. "Where do you come off with that fucking sense of entitlement?" she snarled. Something swam behind her flinty jade glare, something just enough like hate that it may have given pause to anyone but him.

She couldn't hate him if she tried. He knew it. He _knew_ it.

He tensed, waiting for her to come at him– _wanting_ her to come at him. Wanting any excuse to touch her, even if it was in violence. It was like a dam broke in him, and all he wanted in that moment was to devour her – swallow her whole, lock her away, keep her all for himself. He wanted to bring her pleasure or pain or whatever it took to narrow her world until there was only him again.

But this was not Sound, where he was doted upon with free reign to do as he would, and he knew that if he raised hand again as heated as he felt, it would no doubt be taken as an attack upon a Konoha kunoichi. So instead, as the first Konoha citizens began to stir in the city behind her, began to cast quizzical glances in their direction with prying eyes, he froze – waited. Waited for that break, those tears –those signs that he burned beneath her skin as badly as she did beneath his…

Neither of them moved – but then, she took a deep, calming breath, and the distance between them seemed to multiply.

It infuriated him.

"You're the fucking hypocrite," she hissed. When she turned back to the city and walked away, it took everything in him not to physically lash out at her retreating form.

He hoped his hands had bruised her skin. He hoped he marked her, and he hoped the marks burned like brands. He hoped she laid awake that night, aching from his touch, tortured and restless and angry. He hoped he infected her – her mind, her heart, her very soul. He meant to saturate her life, her very existence – taint her with _need_ until things were back as they were meant to be.

--

--

_And isn't destructive love the truest form of all?  
To love in spite all the very worst?_

--

--

**Author's Notes:** Ruh roh. This can't possibly end happily.


End file.
